


Have Faith in Me

by theplottingpoet



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gay Credence Barebone, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Living in Newt Scamander's Suitcase, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse, Religious Guilt, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-07 13:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8802763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theplottingpoet/pseuds/theplottingpoet
Summary: "Something seemed present, suddenly, something that tugged at his memory to draw him back here in the first place, and he followed his intuition, not unlike raveling up a clump of invisible string, to where it lead him: the dark innards of the tunnel that trailed off into a deep nothing. 
No, not exactly nothing."
Three hours before his ship is supposed to sail away from New York, Newt Scamander returns to an underground station he can't quite forget. However, what he finds there will change both his own life and that of the Obscurial he takes it upon himself to save.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first proper published fic, guys, and I'm still a bit rusty on the writing. Any advice or comments at all would be appreciated. Enjoy!

As his last morning in New York watched the scarlet sun rise above the city he had grown to love, Newt returned to the underground. He was alone, save for the case that never seemed to leave his side (for obvious reasons, of course) and the ever-present Pickett nestled in his coat pocket. He looked up. The Aurors had done a splendid job patching the place up, which wasn’t at all surprising considering the potency of those hired into the every growing ranks of the MACUSA, but Newt’s eyes retained some of the childish awe they always possessed when faced with a particularly successful aversion of disaster. After all, Newt was very much a pacifist, and seeing, this suddenly, all effects of a large-scale disaster gone left him wonderstruck. But that was not why he arrived here, three hours before his ship was destined to set sail. He had come to say goodbye.

 

Newt had gone to a number of locations already – he’d delivered a case of Occamy eggs to Jacob, for his bakery. He’d left a letter of thanks at Queenie’s doorstep, knowing she was a late sleeper. Tina, at work even at this early hour, promised to see him off later that day. There were also a number of other affairs he saw to that morning: packing, tending to his innumerable creatures, including a now mandatory headcount. He didn’t want to leave anyone behind. For a long time, he gazed at Frank’s empty habitat, and he hoped the Thunderbird was happy. Happier, anyway. Already, sketches for what the expansive plane would be repurposed for littered his desk. Being who he was, Newt Scamander had learned to move on.

 

But there was one venue, one experience, which he couldn’t quite move on from, and so he stood there now, kicking absent-mindedly at a chocolate wrapper that scuttled across the cracked floor. For some reason, the Aurors didn’t get around to fixing it. The station wasn’t in use yet, the MACUSA cautious of whatever magical residue loitered here still. It had been declared out of bounds for Muggles (No-Majes, huh) and wizards alike, but who was Newt to take such rules into account? He picked his way around the rubble, descending onto the tracks with a soft thud. Something seemed present, suddenly, something that tugged at his memory to draw him back here in the first place, and he followed his intuition, not unlike raveling up a clump of invisible string, to where it lead him: the dark innards of the tunnel that trailed off into a deep nothing.

 

No, not exactly nothing.

 

He was on the border of lamplight and shadow, teetering on its very edge, when he heard it. A noise not unlike sobbing, a spasmodic sound that rode on the echo reverberating off the cavelike walls. His fingers wrapped, without thinking, around his wand. It couldn’t be. This sound was nothing an inanimate object, magical or otherwise, could ever make. Something sentient was in that tunnel, and, indeed, he soon saw a hunched shape just out of sight, crouched, or rather, huddled, against the cold bricks.

 

“Who’s there?”

 

Not the best greeting, Newt thought in hindsight. Whatever, whoever this being was, it seemed scared, and it stiffened when the harsh (with fright. harsh with fright.) voice pierced the silence so thick it was almost tangible. He advanced cautiously, more used to interacting with cornered, scared beasts than he would have liked to admit.

 

“Lumos.” he uttered in a softer voice.

 

A pale light bathed the immediate surroundings in a blue glow, but its range didn’t quite cover whatever stared at Newt now from within the tunnel. The sobbing had ceased. For a moment the wizard and the being he was faced with took in one another’s presence, but after mere seconds the moment was broken: it rose, and scurried, no, ran, further into the gaping maw of the underground. And, forgetting reason, forgetting his own fear, Newt started off after it. To leave a magical creature, and a frightened one at that, on the loose in a city as vast and dangerous as New York could have catastrophic effects, both for the being and the surrounding Muggles. Some creatures, of course, could cause more damage to a city than others, but Newt wasn’t taking any chances after so much havoc resulted from his own creatures. One thing Newt prided himself in was his ability to learn from mistakes (and he made a lot of those).

 

The creature was weak on its feet, and the redhead caught up to it easily, stopping within a few feet of its cowering form. It was panting, its strength drained by the short dash to presumed safety. It wouldn’t have been able to go much further, Newt realised, estimating the cause to be exhaustion and stress, judging by the slumped position and the erratic, raspy breath. He raised his wand again, and finally its glowing end was able to illuminate the being.

 

Newt cursed out of sheer shock.

 

Because what he saw in front of him was no creature. A stark naked, wide-eyed boy was looking back at Newt, who was almost equally terrified. What surprised him more, though, was that he found himself recognizing that face. The boy’s clothes must have been scorched off him by all the spells those Aurors had blasted him with. In fact, it was a miracle his frail body survived them. Newt found himself trying to form his name on his lips, to reassure him, or at least address the other in any way, but no sound escaped him.

 

And that’s when the boy spoke.

 

“Just g-get it over with.” His voice, hoarse with disuse, was barely audible. Newt found himself shifting closer just to hear. Confusion replaced his fear and he tilted his head to the side, inspecting the frightened face and the unbearable hopelessness in those dark eyes. _Help me_ , the boy’s entire form seemed to scream, _help me_.

 

Only now did Newt realise that he wasn’t looking at his face. His eyes were trained on the wand. The revelation that the other expected to be hunted down, to die here by the hands of wizards, hit him like a speeding train, and Newt could barely hold back tears at the though of all the pain this young man had gone through. Something hot and angry bubbled up in his chest: he wanted to put a stop to this.

 

When Newt responded, he forced his voice to stay soft and gentle despite the many questions he felt like blurting out: how did the Obscurial survive? How long had he been hiding in the darkness of the station? – those had to wait until much later, and the boy now trembling before him probably had no answers himself. Instead, Newt dropped the wand, rendering himself completely defenseless against the boy, and offered him as warm a smile as he could muster.

 

“Hello, Credence.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was at school for the past week, so I'm sorry this chapter took so long. Hopefully now that it's the holidays, I'll be able to post more frequently. I'm actually not coming back to school because I dropped out, so that should be helpful in maintaining a schedule on this too.

Credence Barebone was alive. Credence Barebone was staring at the Newt and the redhead wondered whether he could do anything to help, whether Credence Barebone would let him. When he spoke, the other tensed visibly and his senses screamed that it wouldn’t be easy, that it was better to let someone more experienced handle this, but he shut them down and swallowed against the nausea that welled up in his throat. Newt would never abandon a magical creature.

 

Instead, he slipped his coat off and slowly outstretched the arm that held it in the direction of the boy, with the words, “You’re cold. Wear this,” and a smile he hoped looked kindly.

 

Credence stared.

 

His eyes fascinated Newt the most. Dark, scared eyes brimming with pain, but with an odd, resolved shine. As hurt as this poor boy had been in the past, there was still something courageous left in him, which was nothing short of a miracle. And yet, here he was, hunched up and shaking, like a cornered animal. Newt’s heart clenched at the sight.

 

The tunnel, desolate and damp, seemed to heave and swell as if it were a constricting throat. Getting out of there and into daylight, or at least some kind of light, was the next objective. His voice, faltering, reverberating through the vast space, called out to the other again: “Can I come over to you, Credence? Can I come over?” He recalled saying this before, but back then they were in a hurry, and asking any creature to rush the decision to trust someone hardly gave desirable results. To his surprise, the Obscurial nodded: a single jerk of the head that looked to have drained the boy of what little energy he had left. Before he could change his mind, Newt crossed some five feet between them, scattering gravel underfoot, and knelt almost nose-to-nose with the boy. Instantly, a pale hand reached out and snatched the coat he held, out of his grasp. It was too big for Credence, but he draped it around his slender form and sat down again, a still-shivering cocoon. Newt startled, but said nothing, observing the strange and wonderful being that was Credence Barebone with badly masked interest. Under his intent gaze, the cocoon shifted uncomfortably and shrank further into itself, just a head of tar black hair left to poke out of the blue material. And those dark eyes, boring right back into Newt. He quickly grew uneasy, and words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

 

“My name is Newt Scamander and I’m here to help.” he began, wringing his hands and staring somewhere past Credence. “I’m not here to hurt you.” It sounded a little naff, really, but his mouth spoke faster than his mind could catch up. Before he knew it, he was rambling. “I’ve met all sorts of creatures, and some of them, just like you, were hurt and scared and I try to help as many as I can, which is why I want to help you.” At that, he faltered. It was definitely easier with non-human beings. Credence was an enigma, a black hole that drew Newt’s curiosity in but simultaneously made him afraid. “Will you accept my help, Credence?”

 

There was a pause, a terrible silence that hung in the air while the boy considered. Newt wasn’t sure if he could take rejection at this stage, if he could leave the other in the darkness of the tunnel, after finding him in such dire need of help. It was as if he had been let in on a dangerous secret, then told to forget it. He decided he’d at least let Credence keep the coat. Then,

 

“Please.”

 

He was desperate, Newt noted. Desperate and cold and utterly alone, and he would have been willing to go with anyone that offered. Suddenly, the redhead was glad it was him that found the boy alive. For a while, their collective breaths, visible as clouds of translucent steam in the cold, were the only sound heard. Shadows danced on the brick walls. Newt shivered.

 

“Come out into the light with me.” He said suddenly, and the echo startled them both. “We’ll just sit outside, on the platform. It’s lighter there, and a little more comfortable.” Without waiting for a reply, Newt stood and marched back to the safety of the light, gravel crunching in a steady rhythm with each step. He didn’t need to turn his head to know the other followed him – the footfall that mimicked his own was skittering and uneven, but present nonetheless. They walked for a few moments before the light found them, and Newt released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He looked around.

 

The boy that now stood dazed on the train tracks, bathed in harsh electric light, was a mere shadow of a human being. He seemed malnourished, drowning in the sea blue of the coat lent to him as he blinked, squinting, up at the lamps. Shadows darker than the tunnel he had just emerged from encircled his eyes, and he was panting a little with the effort of movement. Sitting down on the platform and dangling his long legs off the side, Newt patted the space next to him. Credence moved, all jagged elbows and stumbling feet, to perch on the edge. His pale, slender limbs rendered him bird-like, about to take flight. He still hadn’t looked the other in the eye. Newt surveyed him through his peripheral vision, wondering whether asking the boy to get into a magical case full of creatures he had never seen before was in any way appropriate. The silence hung tense in the air, and the redhead was unable to battle the urge to say something just to shatter that tension.

 

“Credence, I don’t want to force you to make any decisions just yet, but you have to understand that the magical world think you’re dead.” He saw the other flinch. “It’s a miracle you survived, but I suggest we keep it secret. Wizards like you are few and far between, and if someone with the wrong intentions found you, it could result in… Well. I’m sure you can imagine, knowing the extent of your power. That leaves us with only a handful of options.” Pausing, Newt risked a glance at the other boy and found him shivering despite the wool coat draped over his shoulders, his eyes glazed over as he gripped the fabric with knuckles gone white from exertion. “I’m not going to turn you in unless you’d like that yourself. But-” at that his voice turned softer yet. “You could stay with me.”

 

An expression of confusion crossed Credence’s features. The boy gazed up at Newt for the first time, then his eyes darted downward again, and there was a tiny shake of the head. “I-I couldn’t, Mr. Scamander.”

 

What astounded Newt is how polite the boy was despite the circumstances. “Now, of course you could!” He waved him off. “In fact, I’d be happy to have you. Oh! Do you remember Tina, the nice witch? Well, I could take you to her too, if you would like that.”

 

At that, Credence’s eyes went wide. He quickly nodded, almost as if he was scared Newt would retract the offer. The red haired man’s lips split into a grin. Tina would know what to do. But the smile soon faded: how would he get a frightened boy barely able to walk all the way to her apartment? Considering the side effects of Apparating (and the fact that his skills with side-along Apparition were less than mediocre), attempting that method of travel was unsafe, both for Credence and himself.

 

His eyes fell on the suitcase.

 

“I’m going to ask you to do something very odd, Credence, which is why I need you to trust me.” He watched the Obscurial’s gaze snap up, and willed himself to continue despite the pressure of those dark eyes upon his back as he reached over and opened the lid, fumbling briefly with the catch. There was a soft creak as it swung away to reveal a square of darkness. “I’d like you to step into this case.”

 

Time was running out.

 

And then the boy stood up, shuffled a few pained steps towards the suitcase, and lifted a foot into it. “S-stairs?” He mustered, voice shaking with what Newt presumed to be confusion. He wondered how much of the magical world Graves (no, not Graves, he corrected himself. Grindelwald) had shown him, if any, and how much, as a result, the world hidden in his case would unnerve Credence.

 

“Yes, I understand it might be a shock, but I need you to go inside and find the bed, it’s just in the corner. Stay there for me, and don’t go beyond the curtain. I’ll explain everything as soon as we are safe.” He babbled, already kneeling by the case to close it. It was reckless of him to leave introductions until later, but the creatures rarely wandered past the curtained doorway. If the boy stayed put, nobody would initiate contact with him until Newt himself was present to show him around safely. That was the idea, anyway. His words seemed to do little to reassure Credence, who stood uncertainly on the steps, wobbly with exhaustion. “Just go. For all that it’s worth, I give you my word that the next person to come down there to speak to you will be Tina. Go.” The lid shut above Credence’s head, and the redhead set out to find the Auror and convince her to speak to the boy. That seemed easy enough. 

 

Thinking back, it was moronic of Newt to let an Obscurial loose inside a case full of creatures unused to strangers.

 

He rarely thought his ideas through.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 just in time for Christmas Day! I'm actually leaving for a family holiday later today, from which I return on the 6th of January, so I'll resume work on the fic once I'm back (but I'm sure I'll have some free time while there, so I hope to at least get some of Chapter 4 done by the time I return).

Newt sat on the tiny, rickety bed in Tina and Queenie’s shared apartment, his thoughts a blur. He kicked his heels against the wooden bedframe, straining to hear any voices issuing from the open case. After he’d appeared in the living room, disheveled, coat-less, carrying a fugitive in his case, it was gallant of Tina to ask no questions and descend into the suitcase to talk to the Obscurial. Queenie was making dinner, the sound of her humming a tune drifting in from the kitchen. It did little to soothe Newt’s frayed nerves. The ship he was supposed to board had to be missed, but it was just his luck that another one set off the next morning, so Credence would have enough time to make a decision, and Newt – to make arrangements.

 

Suddenly, Tina’s head poked out of the case. Her eyes were wide as dinner plates. “He’s gone.”

 

“Gone?” He sprang up, peering past her into the suitcase. “But what do you mean? I definitely left him in there, he should be waiting on the bed, or within a short radius of it. Are you sure?”

 

Tina, biting her lips, took a few steps backward, allowing him a glance past her into the seemingly empty shed. The curtain quivered in the artificial breeze. “You don’t think he-?”

 

“I told him not to go past it- ”

 

“And you think a frightened young man in such an unfamiliar environment would listen to you?” She cut him off, and her stern glance in his direction made it impossible to argue. “Especially since all he’s ever wanted was to be part of the magical world? To see it with his own eyes? Would you have stayed on the bed?”

 

Newt found himself unable to answer “yes” and stay truthful. His fingers, restless in moments of distress, raked through his hair, messing it up even more than before. Tina snorted. “Let’s go find your Obscurial.”

 

When they descended into the case, Tina leading the way, Newt bounding down after her, they found the shed empty. The bed was untouched, and only the curtain, drawn aside to reveal a glimpse into the array of habitats, hinted at the fact that someone had been here to move it. Credence must have gone to the other side. Before he fully understood what he was doing, Newt sprinted out of the shed, almost tripping over his own feet, and called the boy’s name. Wandering out into the wrong enclosure could do both him and the creatures harm, so he had to find him quickly. There was, as he predicted, no response. Tina’s gaze, still scrutinizing the back of his neck, grew more irate.

 

“Credence, we promise you aren’t in trouble!” She tried, poking her head around the walls of the Erumpent enclosure while the giantess’s back was turned, “I just want to speak to you.”

 

No answer.

 

This continued for a few minutes, a frantic dash from enclosure to enclosure, calling and looking and asking around wherever they could. It was Newt that found him, a dark shape curled into itself in the corner of the toolshed where he kept the only picture of Leta Lestrange he hadn’t burned or lost. The soft sobs issuing from the trembling body were barely audible unless he put his ear close to the door and tried to tune out the collective noise some hundred magical creatures make. When he was certain, he crouched in front of the dark space between the shelves where Credence had wedged himself, still wrapped, mummified, in the blue coat.

 

“Credence…”

 

Tina pushed past Newt before he could say something stupid, and sat cross legged beside the Obscurial. “You wanted to see me, Credence?” The boy looked up at both of them, tried to melt further into the wall, and whispered in a voice that was nothing short of broken, “Am I in trouble?”

 

All the both of them could do was shake their heads in unison. Newt stepped forward, his hand outstretched to help the other up, but instead, a belt was dropped into it. It was missing a buckle. Tina’s eyes grew even rounder than before, and slowly, painfully slowly, half crouched in a dark shed not meant for three people at once, the pieces clicked into place.

 

“She made you wear it.”

 

His vision clouded briefly with anger: that woman, underserving of the title “mother”, beat Credence with a belt until scars covered his hands (and Merlin knows what other body parts), then made him wear the bloodied evidence. If he was an Obscurial, right then, he wasn’t sure something could stop it from taking over. It took him painful seconds to calm down, and to realise the boy in question was sobbing again, trying to silence himself with his free hand over his lips. The other one still held the torn belt. Must have been that troublesome Niffler, stealing the buckle. Newt made a mental note to retrieve the thing and inched forward on his hands and knees, taking the belt, watching the boy flinch, expecting punishment, and tossing it with a hollow clatter out of the shed. Credence slowly retracted the hand, staring at his fingers in disbelief, clenching and unclenching them. He didn’t dare meet the eyes of either of the two people observing him now.

 

“I promise,” Newt told him, blinking slowly as he shimmied towards the Obscurial, “You don’t ever have to wear that again, and nobody here will hurt you. Ever. And- ”

 

“But it’s mine.”

 

Newt paused, the quiet, cracking voice taking him by surprise. “I’m sorry, what?”

 

Tina, who had gone to get something soothing for Credence’s hands, stopped abruptly, biting her lips. A low, guilty thrum started up in Newt’s chest, and a small voice at the back of his head told him that of course Credence would be protective over his own belongings, of course he would want to keep the wretched thing despite the harm it had caused him. For an orphan with virtually nothing to call his own, it was predictable of Credence to have salvaged the belt and smuggled it with him, even if all his other clothes were destroyed in an explosion that, frankly, should have destroyed him too. And now this boy, this miracle, was asking for the very thing that hurt him for years just because it was all he had left. Newt hadn’t realised he was still staring blankly at Credence until the other shifted further into the folds of the coat and asked, in the same small voice,

 

“C-can I have it back, please?”

 

He startled. “I- Of course you can, hey, I’m sorry.” Motioning at Tina to retrieve the belt, he wondered whether he should convince the boy not to keep it. “Can’t we get you a new one instead?” he began, making somewhat determined eye contact. His confidence waned when a pair of dark, bloodshot eyes, flanked by skin blotchy from crying, gazed back. Unflinching. However, the look did not last, Credence cowered away and the intense, leaden eyes ceased their search for whatever they looked for in Newt’s face, snapping downward once more. The belt, which Tina had brought in without a word (dealing with the situation much better than Newt ever would have, as per usual), lay now at the boy’s feet, and slowly, painfully slowly, he plucked it up to wrap the leather around his palm. Looking at it up close, the belt was charred in places, unable to retain its previous shape, and clearly worn out. A piteous sight, considering it had been worked down by Credence’s own hands.

 

“M-Ma said- ” the cracking voice concealed unshed tears. “Ma said I-I had to wear it. It’s a reminder o-of my sinful a-actions.” Newt realised now that the boy was trembling, badly, the end of the belt slapping softly against his slender wrist. Blindly trusting intuition, he threw words (something he was never good at anyway) out of the window and pulled Credence into a fierce, tight hug. The trembling ceased, briefly, then resumed full force as ugly loud sobs threatened to tear his body apart.

 

And Newt held him. He held him together through the raw outburst of emotion, something Credence must have suppressed for a long time, until the knee he had been leaning onto cramped up and he could feel the damp of the other’s unceasing tears through his shirt. Still, he held him, because he knew that animals in his care all needed affection sometimes, and he was always willing to lend them strength. A while afterward, when the tears stumbled to a stop because there didn’t seem to be any left for the boy to cry, Newt let him go and grabbed him by the shoulders, making the Obscurial look straight at him again. “You don’t have to wear it any more. Your ma isn’t here to tell you otherwise, and Tina and I don’t think you’ve sinned at all. I know my words may mean little to you right now,” He added as an afterthought, “but I can promise you that if you’d like a new one, that can be arranged.”

 

Another long moment passed between them. Credence was leaning into the touch, craving proximity that had been there moments ago, practically vibrating with want under Newt’s warm palms. His eyes swept searchingly around the redhead’s face, attempting, perhaps, to detect a lie. Then, “I’m not in any trouble?”

 

“Why ever would you be, Credence?” Newt’s voice was husky, barely above a whisper.

 

“B-because I didn’t do as I was told.”

 

He had forgotten why Credence hid here in the first place. “Oh…” He mumbled. “No, that wasn’t- I just didn’t want the creatures to panic because I hadn’t introduced you to them yet. You’re not in any kind of trouble. Now, why don’t we grab something to eat?”

 

A relieved sigh sounded behind him, and Tina stood up. “I’m starving.” She confessed, and frogmarched both the men out of the toolshed. Newt had to agree with her: in comforting the Obscurial, he had completely forgotten about the time, and he assumed Credence, who hadn’t eaten in a few days, would feel better once they’d fed him. They emerged from the suitcase into the sisters’ apartment, filled now with the smell of pie.

 

Queenie, who had just entered the room to call everyone for dinner, took one look at Credence and burst into tears.


End file.
